


love is a mixtape (the answer is simple)

by cherrysalad



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, But Not Really Unrequited, Flashbacks, Fluff, Jughead Jones gets what he deserves (happiness), Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Music, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrysalad/pseuds/cherrysalad
Summary: The mixtape is  as good as a love letter.





	love is a mixtape (the answer is simple)

**Author's Note:**

> Songs mentioned in the fic:  
> 1\. Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran (14 year old Archie would like him ok don’t think less of me because of HIS questionable music taste)  
> 2\. Last Night I dreamt Someone Loved Me by the Smiths  
> 3\. Cosmic Love by Florence + the machines  
> 4\. I wanna be yours by Arctic monkeys  
> 5\. Come a little closer by cage the elephant  
> 6\. Anchorite (love you very much) by car seat headrest  
> 7\. Compass by Zella day

Jughead and Archie are sitting cross legged on the floor of what was Betty’s bedroom only a few short months ago. What is now Jughead’s bedroom. The walls are still covered in floral wall paper, which looks funny underneath Jughead’s dark posters for old movies and rock bands. The wallpaper makes him that much more uneasy, makes him feel like he’s just camping out in someone else’s house. Jughead wonders if the feeling will ever go away. 

Archie is sorting through a box of Jughead’s mix tapes, he made most of them in freshman year, a few before that. He doesn’t know how they’ve survived for so long, it’s a miracle they haven’t been lost in the shuffle somewhere. 

“I can’t believe you used to listen to music on cassette tapes, Jug,” Archie says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling warmly at Jughead. Jughead look down and picks at the ugly carpet.

“Anything to maintain my retro aesthetic,” he says, shrugging. Archie snorts.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, before going back to sorting through the tapes. “Aw, Jug,” He holds up a tape just labeled ‘Sad’. Jughead thinks he made that in eighth grade. “Let’s listen to it.” Archie says. 

“No,” Jughead says firmly. “I made it in middle school. Do you know how terrible my taste was back then?” He thinks he’d die of embarrassment if he had to sit here with Archie and listen to a medley of all the My Chemical Romance and Green Day songs he liked back then. 

“Fine,” Archie sighs. He goes back to looking through the tapes. He holds onto at one for a too long, staring at it. Jughead tenses. 

“What’s that?” He asks nervously. Archie holds it up and grins. Jughead’s heart plummets thirty stories when he sees Archie’s name written on the label. The memory of the tape comes rushing back to him and he feels like an idiot for forgetting it was in there. He’d made it between the summer of ninth and tenth grade when everything was spiraling out of control for him, when he was lovesick and lonely and miserable. 

Jughead rips the tape from Archie’s hand faster than he can blink. He imagines crushing it under his foot to destroy all evidence, but instead he just clutches it motionlessly.

“Hey, relax,” Archie laughs. Jughead says nothing, he grips the tape tightly in his clammy hand. If Archie listens to this it’s game over for Jughead, it would be as good as a confession. As good as a love letter.

“Are you okay?” Archie asks, frowning. Jughead nods. 

“Yeah,” He says. He takes the box of tapes from Archie, sets the one with his name in it on top and shoves it under his bed. “I’m fine, you want to watch a movie?”

“I kind of want to hear that tape,” he says stubbornly. Jughead takes a deep breath. “C’mon,” Archie prods, nudging Jughead’s foot with his own. 

Jughead closes his eyes. He’s kept this secret for so long, taken pains to keep it tucked up neatly inside of himself. He’s been careful not to let it slip in moments of weakness like Betty had. It’s very tempting to just let go of it. Besides, he knows Archie will never drop it. Maybe he’ll even come to the correct conclusion without hearing it. 

“Jughead,” Archie says quietly. He feels a hand on his knee. “What’s on the tape? What awful thing could possibly be on there.” Jughead is silent for a minute. 

“Fine,” He says, sealing his fate. We can listen to it, if you really want to.”

“I want to,” Archie confirms. Jughead stands up and with trembling hands he digs through a box of his things that he still hasn’t bothered to unpacks, there he finds his small tape player wrapped in newspaper. 

He brings it to Archie, who inserts the tape and hits play. Jughead lies down on his floor and lets the beginning notes of an Ed Sheeran song wash over him, he’s falling helplessly through the air, waiting for the bone shattering impact of the ground beneath him. Archie lies down besides him, their shoulders almost touching. 

“You hated this song,” Archie says. 

“Yeah,” Jughead says quietly. “But you liked it.” 

 

...

 

“It’s our first high school dance, Jug,” Archie says. “It’s a big deal.” They’re fourteen years old and Jughead is at Archie’s after school on a Thursday afternoon. All Archie wants to talk about is homecoming.

“Your first high school dance,” Jughead corrects him. “I’m not going. And you sound like Betty.” 

“Come on,” Archie says. “You should come, just to see what it’s like.”

“I don’t want to go,” Jughead says firmly. “Besides, I wouldn’t be any fun. I’d just ruin your good time.”Lately he feels like this miserable dark rain cloud hanging over his friends’ heads and blocking out the sun whenever he’s with them. 

“Don’t say that,” Archie frowns, but he forgets about it in a split second and is on to the next topic immediately. “I’m worried about dancing,” he says. “I’m afraid I’ll look like an idiot.” 

“You will,” Jughead says. “But so will everyone else. No one is expecting you to be Fred Astaire.” 

“Who?” 

“Never mind,” Jughead sighs. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Arch.” Archie is silent for a minute, which Jughead thinks is probably dangerous. 

“Hey,” he says abruptly. “Will you practice with me?” Jughead snorts. 

“Seriously?” He says. “I’m probably a worse dancer than you are.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Archie says. “I think it would help just to try it out with someone first. Please Jug?” He gives him those wide, pleading eyes that Jughead knows all too well. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “It’s probably pointless, but fine.” Archie grins and leaps to his feet. Jughead gets up, grumbling. 

Archie puts both his hands on Jughead’s shoulders. Jughead’s heart is beating in his throat, his mouth, his wrists. Too excited to sit in one place. He puts one hand on Archie’s waist. 

“Wait!” Archie says suddenly, stepping back. “Music! We need music.” 

“Why?” Jughead mutters. 

“It’d be weird to dance without music,” Archie says, like it’s obvious. He connects his IPod to his speakers and a song begins to play, Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran.Jughead groans. 

“I hate this song,” he mutters as Archie settles his hands back onto Jughead’s shoulders. 

“No one hates this song,” Archie says, they begin to sway slightly. It might occur to Jughead to feel stupid if he didn’t feel like he was about to implode from nerves. “You just won’t admit you like it.” Jughead shakes his head. There’s a pause in the conversation. Music fills the space. 

“It’s awkward for you to have both your hands on my shoulders,” Jughead remarks, in a brief surge of courage he grabs Archie’s hand and places it in his waist. “That’s better.” Archie smiles at him, pulls him closer. Jughead forgets how to breathe for a minute. 

“Thanks for doing this,” Archie says. 

“You’re welcome,” Jughead says with a tight smile. “You’ll be able to woo Midge Klump, or whatever girl it is this week, no problem with these dancing skills.” There’s a dull, throbbing ache in his chest. 

“‘Woo’?” Archie laughs. “You’re a real weirdo, Jug.” He’s wearing an affectionate smile and Jughead can’t tell if that makes it better or worse. The conversation dies out and suddenly it’s just the two of them, the bright notes of the song filling the silence. It’s easy to fall into the trap of pretending. 

If Archie was going to dance with him like this again, he thinks would go to stupid homecoming in a heartbeat. 

 

....

 

The song ends and neither of them speak until the next one begins.

“This is the Smiths, right?” Archie asks. “My dad listens to them sometimes.” 

“Yeah,” Jughead says. “I know.” 

 

… 

 

Jughead is halfway to Archie’s house it starts raining. It comes down hard, soaking through his flannel and then his t-shirt and right to his skin. He keeps going, walks through town and into Archie’s neat little suburban neighborhood.

He’s shivering when he knocks on the door, Fred opens it. 

“Jughead,” he says frowning. “You’re soaked, you must be freezing. Come in.” Jughead crosses his arms over his chest and follows Fred into the house. “Are you looking for Archie?” Jughead nods. 

“We have plans,” he says. 

“He must’ve forgotten to tell you,” Fred says sympathetically. “He’s out with Melody Valentine.” Jughead is silent for a minute. 

“Okay,” He says, his voice very small. “Sorry for bothering you.” He turns towards the door. 

“Wait, Jughead,” Fred laughs. “I’m not going to let you walk home in this rain. Why don’t you stay for dinner and then I can give you a ride?” Jughead hesitates. 

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I could use the company,” Fred assures him. Jughead wonders if he’s lonely, with his wife gone and Archie always off with a friend or at football practice. Jughead follows him into the kitchen. There’s a song playing in the background, the singer’s voice heavy, sad and wistful.

“The Smiths?” Jughead says. Fred nods.

“You want a turkey sandwich?” He asks. “I think there’s a frozen pizza if you’d rather have that.” 

“A turkey sandwich is good,” Jughead tells him. Fred nods and takes out some bread. 

“I’m sorry about Archie,” he says. “It was inconsiderate of him not to tell you he’d made other plans.”

“It’s okay,” Jughead says quietly. “He probably just forgot. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.” There’s afamiliar heavy ache in his chest. He’s forgettable to Archie now, an insignificant background character in his best friend’s life. He digs his nails into the skin of his knee where his jeans are torn.

“It’s no excuse,” Fred says. He sets a plate with a turkey sandwich and chips down on the table in front of Jughead, then sits down across from him. 

“Thanks, Mr. Andrews,” Jughead says before taking a bite. 

“Of course.” There’s a moment of silence. “Jughead, you know... it’s natural for friends to grow apart when high school starts.” 

Jughead feels sick all of a sudden. He stands abruptly. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” he mutters. Fred nods, but his eyes are full of concern. 

Jughead sits on the edge of the tub, resting his head in his hands and taking deep breaths. He can hear the lyrics to song playing in the kitchen. 

_ “I know it's over / And it never really began / But in my heart it was so real ...” _

...

 

The room is silent as the song switches. Jughead takes deep breaths and clenches his hands into fists. 

 

...

 

“What’s up, Lydia Deetz?”Reggie Mantle calls as Jughead passes him in the hall. Jughead ignores him, keeps his head down and keeps walking. “Hey!” Jughead can’t see him, but his voice sounds closer, he quickens up his pace. “I’m talking to you, bitch.”

A hand clamps over his arm and he spins around. 

“I said,” Reggie begins dangerously. “What’s up, Lydia Deetz?” 

“Are you really so desperate for my attention that you have to grab me and demand I respond to you?” Jughead says, sounding less bothered than he feels. “If you’re that into me, why don’t you try being a little more polite? I might actually talk to you.” In a heartbeat Reggie slams his back against the lockers. 

“You’re such fucking freak,” he hisses. Jughead struggles to free himself, but Reggie is a football player. It’s hopeless. He draws his arm back, Jughead flinches. Pain bursts under his right eye where Reggie’s knuckles meet his skin. 

He steels himself for the second hit, but then over Reggie’s shoulder he sees Archie and Moose round the corner and he exhales in a sigh of relief. Archie looks at them and his eyes widen. 

“Hey,” Archie says. “Reg, leave him alone.” 

“What’s it to you?” Reggie asks. 

“Nothing,” Archie answers calmly. “But if you get suspended for fighting you won’t be able to play in the game this Friday and the team really needs you.” Reggie hesitates for a moment before leering at Jughead and letting him go. Jughead tries and fails to meet Archie’s eyes. Jughead wishes he just let Reggie hit him again. 

Archie is only protecting himself, he would get so much shit if the guys on his sports teams knew he Jughead was his friend. It stings being an embarrassment, being something that has to be kept secret. It feels like Archie’s choosing his teammates over Jughead, and that burns. 

Jughead doesn’t go to class, instead he slips out a side door and walks all the way across town to get home. He can only hope that his father isn’t home, not because FP will be angry that he’s skipping class, but because Jughead doesn’t want to talk to him and have to explain the bruise, surely appearing on his cheek. 

He breathes a little easier when he steps into the trailer and the couch is empty. Jughead puts on some music so loud he can’t hear himself and curls up on the couch. His stomach aches, his cheek throbs where Reggie hit him. He wraps his arms around himself and allows himself a moment of weakness. He lets himself cry, lets his self pity to swallow him whole. 

He replays the scene from earlier in his head.

“ _What’s it to you?”_

“ _Nothing_.”  Like it really was. 

Archie is probably at lunch right now, sitting with Reggie and Moose and other people who look at Jughead like he’s the scum on the bottom of their shoe and laughing at their jokes and not thinking about Jughead at all. 

“ _The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out / You left me in the dark_ ” Florence Welch sings.

Jughead sniffs, the couch reeks of sweet and and spilled beer.

“ _And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat / I tried to find the sound / But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness._ ” 

 

...

 

More silence. Terrible, terrible silence. 

 

... 

 

Jughead is lying back on Betty’s bed as she does aggressively applies her lipstick. He’s been hanging out with Betty more since Archie started talking to him less. A song Jughead doesn’t recognize plays on her stereo. 

_“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner/ Breathing in your dust.”_

“It just feels like no one in the entire world gets it,” Betty says sadly. “I’m so in love with him and he doesn’t even care enough to realize.” Jughead wants to scream that he gets it! He understands!

“That sucks,” is the best he manages. 

“I just don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else,” Betty sighs. It’s a melodramatic, lovesick teenage sentiment, but Jughead can’t be too disgusted with Betty because deep down, that’s how he feels too. He looks wistfully out of her window to see that Archie’s curtains are drawn. 

“ _ Maybe I just wanna be yours / I wanna be yours / I wanna be yours.” _

He closes his eyes and wishes desperately that when he opens them he’ll be in the house next door.

“ _Secrets I have held in my heart /_ _Are harder to hide than I thought.”_

“Hey,” Jughead says. “What’s this song?” It sounds as desperate as he feels. 

“Oh,” Betty says. “Its called I Wanna be Yours, it’s by Arctic Monkeys.”Jughead nods and shut his eyes again. 

“ _Maybe I just wanna be yours...”_

 

...

 

Jughead tries to tell what Archie’s thinking by the way that he’s breathing. It doesn’t work. 

 

...

 

It’s one of the first warm days of the year, early April when the leaves are just budding and there are still lingering patches of snow on the ground.

Jughead and Archie are sitting his treehouse and it feels too good to be true. It’s the first time they’ve hung out in a month, and the first time they’ve been in Jughead’s treehouse since the Summer before. The comic books he left are moldy and warped with water damage. 

It’s easy, up here, to forget about all the pain Archie has caused him. To feel like things between them are pure and easy and simple again, like when they were kids.

Archie’s playing a song through his iPod’s tinny, built in speakers.

“ _Earthquakes shake the dust behind you / This world at times will blind you / Still I know I'll see you there.”_

Archie hums  along quietly. 

“This song is actually really good,” Jughead says, with a teasing smile. “Have you somehow developed taste?” Archie shoves him playfully. 

“I’ve always had excellent taste in music,” he insists. 

“Mhm,” Jughead says incredulously. There’s a brief pause in the conversation, Archie looks down for a minute. 

“Hey, Jug,” He says, tone suddenly serious. “I’m sorry we kind of drifted apart this year.” 

“It’s okay,” Jughead lies. “You were busy.” He hesitates a minute. “But... I missed you.” It’s the closest he thinks he’ll ever get to telling Archie how he feels.

“Yeah,” Archie says. “I missed you too, and I was thinking... since I’m getting my license in July, we could go on a road trip on the fourth. I’ve talked to my dad about it and he’s said it’s okay. What do you think?” Jughead feels himself light up. 

“That would be cool,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Alright,” Archie grins. “Good.” 

“ _Heartbreaks, the heavy world's upon your shoulders / Will we burn on or just smolder? /Somehow I know I'll find you there.”_ The vocalist sings.

 

… 

 

Jughead doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to stand this, lying in the dark, waiting tensely for some kind of reaction.

He stays still and tries his best not to spiral into panic. The next song starts.

 

...

 

Jughead is more excited for the road trip than he would ever admit to Archie. When he’s alone at night, in the cramped, dark projection room at the Sunset, he thinks about it and can’t stop himself from smiling up at the ceiling. 

They haven’t spent much time together since the evening in the treehouse, but Jughead understands, Archie is busy working at his dad’s company. And whenever he starts to miss him, he looks ahead to the road trip, a shining light on the horizon.

Then the day has arrived. Jughead packs a few of his things in his backpack and makes the walk to Pop’s in the hot sun. Sweat beads on his forehead. 

He gets a coke and waits for Archie in the booth nearest to the door. They were supposed to meet at noon, but suddenly it’s half past twelve and Jughead’s still sitting alone. Every time the bell above the door rings, Jughead’s gaze hopefully shoots up.

By the time one rolls around Jughead has almost given up. At one thirty he gets a text.

Sorry, Jug, it reads  not going to be able to make it.  Jughead’s insides boil. He recognizes the feeling as anger, red hot and itching inside of him. He stands up abruptly, leaves the air conditioned diner starts the trudge back to the drive in. 

He stews during the entire walk.

When he gets back He writes a scathing entry about Archie in the beat up composition notebook he uses as a journal. Pressing his cheap pen hard into the paper. When he’s finished, he just feels a slow, numbed kind of ache all over. He tucks the notebook under his pillow and puts on the saddest tape he owns. 

He lies back and listens to the music in the pressing loneliness of his sorry excuse for a home.

“ _My words and my heart were not enough to give you / And my words always sounded wrong, it was easy not to listen / Still it pained me to see when I left, you never noticed what was missing_ ,”  the singer’s voice is flat, worn out as Jughead feels. 

He doesn’t cry, he stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think to think about Archie (which is, of course, a losing battle). 

 

...

 

The song ends and another, less significant song begins, just something Archie listened to a lot in middle school. 

“Hey,” Archie says very quietly. Jughead closes his eyes, waits for Archie to continue like he’s waiting for a gun to go off. “Hey, Jughead look at me.” Jughead does as he’s told, Archie is sitting next to him, looking down at him with his brows furrowed. “Come here.” Cautiously, Jughead sits up. Archie pulls him into a hug and buries his face in his shoulder. Jughead sits there rigid and still for a moment before bringing his hands to rest on Archie’s back. 

“Do you understand?” Jughead asks, barely more than a whisper. He feels weak, his stomach upset and his body trembling with nerves. 

“Yes,” Archie says softly. Jughead feels him press a kiss into the crook of his neck. His brain suddenly goes dark like a television that’s been abruptly turned off. “I think I understand.” Archie tenderly kisses his jaw and he comes apart. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes,” Jughead says, voice coming out choked. “God.” Archie keeps kissing Jughead everywhere but his mouth, on his cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose. 

Jughead pulls away for a minute, looking at Archie through a confused, dreamy fog. This is too much. He just got everything he’s ever wanted dumped into his lap and now he’s not sure what to do with it.

He leans in slightly, a tentative gesture. Archie does the rest for him, surging forward and kissing him on the mouth. His heart pounds in his ears, he stills his shaking hands by holding tightly to Archie’s shoulders. Jughead feels like he could collapse, then Archie is cradling his face in his hands and the only things in entire universe that mean anything are his fingertips pressing firm and reassuring against Jughead’s jaw.

There’s a knock on the door and they hastily break apart (Jughead thanks god FP has the courtesy to announce himself before bursting in). 

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, poking his head in. “Is Archie staying?” Jughead looks to him for an answer. He nods. 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he says.

“Of course not,” FP tells him, turning to leave.

“We’ll talk after, yeah?” Archie says quietly, squeezing Jughead’s hand.

“Yeah,” Jughead says, still a little breathless. 

They go downstairs and Archie holds his hand under the table, Jughead can barely speak through out the whole meal. 

Later, they’re laying on the bed, Jughead’s head resting on Archie’s chest, Archie’s arm securely around him and he feels so full of light. Like if he opened his mouth sunshine would just pour out. 

“I love you,” Archie says, lacing his fingers with Jughead’s. He brings the hand to his mouth and kisses Jughead’s knuckles. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kisses his knuckles three more times for emphasis. Jughead hides his face in Archie’s chest.

“How long?” He asks, voice muffled.

“I was too stupid to realize it until last year,” he says. “But probably for a long time before that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jughead asks.

“A million reasons,” Archie says. “Everything was so complicated, besides, I didn’t know how you felt. I thought you were head over heels for Betty.” Jughead winces at the mention of his awkward short lived romance with Betty Cooper. Archie fiddles with the silver rings on Jughead’s fingers. 

“So,” Jughead says carefully. “Are we dating now?” 

“Duh,” Archie says grinning, but then his smile falls. “Unless you don’t want to be?” Jughead rolls his eyes.

“You’re so dumb,” he says, kissing Archie softly on the mouth. “Of course I want to date you, moron.” 

“I love you,” he says again. Jughead smiles up at him. And normally Jughead would be overthinking this, he’d be worrying about ruining it or Archie leaving him for Veronica, and maybe he’ll torture himself about it later, but right now, he just lets the perfect, golden moment be what it is.

“I love you too,” he says. 

“Hey,” Archie says. “Can I put on a song?” Jughead nods. Archie grabs his phone from the bedside table and puts on something dreamy and bittersweet. 

They sit, just holding each other and listening for a minute.

“ _Where you are, I will be / Miles high, in the deep / Where you are, I will be / Anywhere, in between.”_

“ This song has always made me think of you,” Archie tells him quietly. It almost makes Jughead want to cry. 

Instead, he kisses Archie.

“ _Compass points your home / Calling out from the east / Compass points you anywhere / Closer to me.” .”_


End file.
